


A Tale of Two Princes; Immortality is a Lonely Road

by Phanto77



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Brothers, Immortality, Immortals, Incest, Incest Overtones, Love, M/M, Obsession, Pharaoh - Freeform, Rape, Sibling Incest, Sibling Rivalry, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:54:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2455502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phanto77/pseuds/Phanto77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Egyptian God-Kings as old as time. Brothers in immortality and monotonous existence. Menkaura was never a good man, and now he is not a good immortal either. He comes to retrieve something that he believes is his, and build an empire with that something by his side. </p>
<p>(Sucky summary, sorry. I've never done this before).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What is Mine...

**Author's Note:**

> Hiyya! This is something I wrote a few months ago. I never got past the first chapter, but if I get enough positive response, I will definitely finish it. I would love to hear your comments and opinions, so feel free to leave any. Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I've never done this before so posting regularly will be observed but a little blotchy.

Menkaura waited in the conference room patiently. His solid gold king chess piece felt heavy and comforting in his palm. His surroundings were very polished and so was he. The suit was strange, but the silk lining was comforting. He waited for what seemed like a moment. This was howSmenkhkare was. No punctuality. No sense of time. As he was for all the 4000 years they have lived. But no matter, Menkaura had all the time in the world. Suddenly the door knob started to turn. Unconciously, Menkaura straightened up and looked in the direction of the door. Not wanting to betray his eagerness, he quickly sat back and wore a passive expression, playing with his king.

 

Almost too quiet to detect, Smenkhkare stepped into the room, footsteps as light as raindrops. He did not look in Menkaura’s direction as he closed the door. He then looked up, but stayed where he was, by the door. No one spoke, and silence was flaunting its weight. Menkaura listened to Smenkhkare’s even breathing. Soft, fleeting. He looked at his face. Angular and possesing an excellence in beauty. His long, unmarked neck. _So…breakable._ His hair, the darkest of browns. Long, as if strands of the purest silk hung down his back. His eyes. The light, gleaming colour of honey. _How I’d love to rip them out._ He was lean, as always. Tall, as always. Lovely, as always. _Mine, as always._

Menkaura broke the silence, in their native tongue. _“Hello, Smen”._

 

Smenkhkare almost flinched at the name, but kept his face and voice neutral. _“Menkaure”._ While Menkaure took the liberty of calling him that name, Smenkhkare always called him by his full one. _“To what do I owe this visit?”_ It is no pleasure, that is certain.

 

Menkaura gave a little smile. _“Must there be a reason?”_

_“We agreed-“_

_“I agreed to nothing”,_ Menkaura interrupted, forcefully. Menkaura got up and approached Smenkhkare. He repeated slowly, _“I agreed to nothing.”_

_“You haven’t changed, Menkaura”,_ said Smenkhkare, tiredly.

 

Menkaura moved to touch Smenkhkare’s hair. Smenkhkare, agitated, flinched away, patience wearing thin. Menkaure did it again, disregarding Smenkhkare’s wishes. He tucked a lock of Smenkhkare’s hair behind his ear. _“If only you had been female, Smen-“_

_“Aye, I am not.”_

_“-you would have been my wife”,_ he continued, ignoring Smenkhkare’s words. Smenkhkare moved away violently.

 

_“Our Lord Pharoh and Pharoh’s wife had only males, Menkaure”,_ he said, as if he had said this many times before.

 

Menkaure put his hands in his pockets. He quite liked this fashion. Pockets were a lovely thing. He almost looked like he belonged to this time. With his cropped, business like hair and his clothes. Unlike his Smenkhkare, however. _“And I persuaded them to keep you. You survived our siblings, Smen.”_ He held Smenkhkare by the shoulders. _“If it weren’t for me, they would have buried you living. With the rest of them.”_

He approached Smenkhkare and put his hands on either side of his face, whispering, “ _No gratitude for thine savior?”_

Smenkhkare pushed Menkaura away, and Menkaura let him. Before Smenkhkare can say anything, the door opened and in walked Gwen, Smenkhkare’s secretary. She was the typical secretary one might think of, what with the tight formal clothing, the skirt too short to be anything near appropriate and the gravity-defying bosom any woman would kill for. She had an almost vulgar beauty to her that hit you between the eyes.

 

She paused to look at the men before her, one standing tall, the other, her boss, wearing an expression of wariness and resignation behind the slightly dishevled curtain that is his hair. “Excuse me, sir,” she said in a husky voice, one that is obviously not hers. “There are two men outside, and they won’t leave”.

 

 Smenkhkare replied in perfect english, giving himself a slight brogue. “Please try your hardest to remove them, Gwendolyn, whomever they may be.” She would not have distrubed him if they were harmless. Her face soured at the name he called her, for she hated her given name, and yet he insisited on calling her such.

 

The next words came not from Gwen, but from Menkaura. “These men are my own, miss”, he said, dispencing with uniqueness and speaking with no discernable accent. “If you would be so kind as to show them in.”

 

“Do not show them in, Gwendolyn”, Smenkhkare said calmly.

 

This somewhat agitated Menkaura. “Miss, I will not say this again”, he said in a menacing, low voice, eyes flaring. “Let. Them. In.” His clipped tone frightened to the extent that she ignored her employer’s instructions and ran out to beckon the two men through.

 

In came the two men, not followed be Gwen, who thought it best to remain outside. The men were large and imposing. Their physiques were of unmatched caliber, that even under their suits, their muscles rippled with every breath. Smenkhkare’s eyes widened slightly as he recognized the men. The first was Nakjtnebtepnefer, the beautiful and strong champion, befitting of his name and pride of his family. The other was Wosret, the powerful one. While he lacked Nakjtnebtepnefer’s appealing looks, he was a match and better to him, for his scarred face betrayed a countenance more fearsome than Anubis himself, and a turbulent life to match.

 

Smenkhkare’s breath quickened, for not only had he recognized these men, he had also felt their cruelty. Their servitude knew no bound or obstacle. Now, he well and truly was cornered. These men were the leaders of the fiercest, most ruthless band of soldiers this world had ever seen. These men are elites. These men are… Medjay.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Electric

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite a mediocre chapter, I think, but one must set the image. I got one comment on the first chapter and got so giddy I wrote this. Enjoy!

Panicked, Smenkhkare looked at the two men before him. "Of course," he said, his voice calm, a surprise even to him. "When the master aquires, the dogs must come."

 

The arrogant and beautiful Nakjtnebtepnefer smiled, him and the other man still advancing. "Come now, Highness. All we want is to help." Smenkhkare, at those words, hugged himself, and in turn at that action, the two men stopped their advance. They knew what that action meant. 

 

Smenkhkare began the emit small blue electric charges, a humming sound emanating from him as a result. He closed his eyes and concentrated, having not been able to practice his currently much needed skill. Smenkhkare's concentration was penetrated by Menkaura's laugh. "By Ra, boy, aren't we out of practice?" His tone was condescending and arrogant. "You used to be able to strike a bolt in a second. That was my Smen. Have you even fed, recently? Because you could have hurt all of us. Well..", he said with a gleeful huff, "Not me, but these two guys. For a moment, at least. You think I'm going to wait for you to build up your, albeit quite pathetic, defence? Nakjtnebtepnefer, end this."

 

All the while, Wosret watched. He had always felt for the younger prince. No one should suffer the way he did. At least not for 4000 years. Wosret's hand shot out and grabbed Nakjtnebtepnefer's shoulder. "I'll do it."

 

Smenkhkare's eyes relaxed at Wosret's approach, but his stance remained unchanged. "Come, Highness. You don't want anyone outside hurt, do you? We can go somewhere else, yes? So we can talk freely?" The closer Wosret got, however, the more frantic Smenkhkare's eyes got. He had thought the Medjay would help him, give him at least a way out. But he remembered that while he had rank over Wosret, their servitude to the eldest crown prince truly knew no bounds. 

 

"I'm going nowhere with you," he said quietly. At that instant, two glowing bolts of pure and almighty lightning shot out of Smenkhkare's body and struck both Wosret and Nakjtnebtepnefer's, accompanied with a deafening rumble of thunder and majesty. He couldn't muster the capability to manage three bolts, one for Menkaura as well, but Menkaura was right, he was out of practice and hadn't fed in a while. Knowing he only had a few moments to run, Smenkhkare made for the window, not wanting his employees to see him in this state. But he had thought one second too long, because his brother's hand was at his neck almost immediately.

 

"Tell me, Smen. Where did you think you were going to go? Hmm? Where can you hide from me?"

 

Smenkhkare knew the answer. Nowhere.


	3. Revelations and Renovations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies. I'm back. Would love your feedback and opinions. Comment and maybe subscribe. Hope you like it.

Smenkhkare felt the pain of the hand at his throat, but feared it not. After all, it was only pain. His brother had always been arrogant, self centred, entitled, but he wasn't always cruel. Time made his cruel. And they had lived for 4 millennia. That was a lot of years, and so there was a lot of cruel in Mankaura. 

His brother has wanted him willing once. But seeing as Smen would never be, he settled for just having him. He acclimatised himself to Smen's rejection. He thought that if Smen was unwilling, then that was his fault. "If he must be miserable, I'd rather he be miserable with me," he had said once. And Menkaura had always been surrounded by yes-men that bowed to his ever whim, and so after a few hundred years, when Smen's backbone grew solid and defiant, Menkaure was determined to bend him, or break him, if need be. 

Menkaure grabbed his brother's long lustrous hair, and slapped him with the hand previously at his neck. "Our Smen never learns, does he, Nakjtnebtepnefer?"

Head down, Nakjtnebtepnefer replies, "No, Sire, he does not."

Menkaure was suddenly angry, "This is my brother, and your lord Prince and you will give him the title and respect owed to him."

Smenkhkare almost laughed. Respect? Respect, says the man with a hand in his hair, and whose hand just slapped his face. Was his brother serious?

Nakjtnebtepnefer apologised, "His highness hasn't your wisdom, Sire. He is younger and only you know what is better for him."

Satisfied, Menkaure turned his attention back to his brother. "You didn't answer my question. So I will answer it for you. Nowhere. Athena and Zimba are gone. I… disposed of them."

Smenkhkare's eyes widened, seeming shocked for the first time. Everything his brother did was expected. This was not. "No. No. You couldn't." 

Menkaura smiled evilly. "Oh but I have, dear boy. Now there is truly nowhere you can go. You have no one to take you in. No one to keep you from me. I am all you have left."

Athena and Zimba were Smen's only friends. They had protected him from Menkaura over the centuries. He could only imagine what Menkaura did to them. Or how. 

Smen screamed at his brother, beating his chest although it strained his scalp. "What did you do?!"

Pulling his head to the side savagely, exposing his neck, Menakaura said in a low voice, "Hows about I show you, brother?"

Smen screamed wordlessly as his brother's canine invaded his neck.


	4. Visions and Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit longer and angsty, but I really hope you enjoy it. Please leave feedback and comments. Would love to hear what you think.

The pain at his neck was only momentary, as the memory his brother passed to him took over. Just like on those awful new things called movies, the memory was blurry at the edge of Smen's vision. He was two figures. He saw Athena, his friend and love for 100 years, blonde and youthful, not looking a day over 17. But she was many days over 17. Athena was 3500 years old, and once his brother's creation. The other was Zimba, a truly large and imposing black man, whose ebony skin was akin to the finest of, you guessed it, ebony.

 

"Resumed your quest for your brother's unhappiness, I see, Menkaura. For shame. Have you not done enough?" Zimba's voice was forceful as if speaking to an unruly child, not a vampyr that could tear him limb from limb, and not to mention, his superior. 

 

"All I am doing, Zimba, is reclaiming what is mine. Surely, man, you realise that. Smen is mine. His life, his body, every breath he takes, every memory, every whim, every drop of soul he ever drank. All mine. I saved him from a living grave, and this is how he shows gratitude."

 

Athena spoke up the, angry and indignant. "We are not men, Menkaura, and so do not call us as such. We are vampyr…"

 

Menkaura then interrupted. "Insolent child! You dare tell your sire what he has made you?"

 

Athena. "Sire, leave your brother be. Even by your.. mindless logic, his debt would have been paid by now. 4000 years of having his neck under your heal, and his misery in your bed is enough."

 

"I LOVE HIM!" Menkaura's voice shook with anger, as his power began to creep up. 

 

"But he doesn't love you. Not like that, at least."

 

"It doesn't matter what he feels. Only what I feel matters. Am I wrong?"

 

Bowing their heads begrudgingly, for they couldn't disagree. "No, sire. You are not."

 

He nodded. "Good."

 

At this point, Smen was lying on the floor, writhing with his fingers tensed and curled. His back arched and he whimpered sobbingly as he watched the memory unfold. Watched his only friends be broken beyond repair. Watched as they were plunged into a state only his brother can relieve them of. Electricity was Smen's gift, a control over death was Menkaura. 

 

Menkaura watched his brother writhe and sob, his body convulsing and tensing like a madman with every blow he saw Menkaura give the other two. Smen's body paid no heed to the marks of Menkaura's teeth, still oozing a dark blue liquid. Yes, blue. He was a pure blood royal after all. 

 

"Y-you slumbered them. All so you can _fuck_ me."

 

Advancing on him angrily, he grabbed Smen by the shoulders painfully and sat him up. "Don't ever use that word. Ever! Why must you belittle this, Smen?"

 

Eyes glazed over, Smen whispered, "Because I want none of it."

 

Menkaura then said the words that broke the camel's back, and at those words, Smen began to sob, heart wrenchingly, a sound that would have made stone weep. "Then by all means, my dear boy, **_suffer_." **

 


	5. Honeymoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again! I am on fire with this. The ideas just keep coming, so I thought I'd post as soon as I got them. As usual please leave feedback and thoughts. Would love to hear what you guys think. Enjoy! Oh and this one is a bit longer.

Menkaura liked those things called cars. He had ridden carriages and carts pulled by horses, oxen, and even hippos, and while they provided a leisurely ride, they were not as efficient, and not nearly as comfortable. He liked them because he could sit in them, and also because there were fewer bumps that discomforted his baby brother.

His Smen lay with his head on his lap. He stroked Smen's hair, as the other catatonically stared at the air-conditioning knob at the SUV's control, his body tensing with every touch, staying tense until his brother lifted his hand, only to tense again when that hand touched him again. Nakjtnebtepnefer sat in the front while a bewitched driver drove the car to where he was ordered to go, and where he will later be.. disposed of, one way or another. Wosret sat on the other end of the car. Smen's feet rested near the door handle. His leg, however, has Wosret's steel arm wrapped tightly around it. Menkaura said that it was because he'd drained Smen, and so he wanted to make sure that, in his weakness, Smen didn't fall. Smen knew better. He knew his brother better than that. 

"Where would you like to go, my dear boy? Hmm?", Menkaura said in a sombre, yet blissful voice. He was a jovial, and filled with bliss at having his brother again. When Smen didn't answer, he continued. "We could go to Grenada. I remembered you loved Grenada. Hmm, but then again when we were there last, it belonged to the Moors. It would have lost its charm when the Europeans took it. Oh, how about Sicily? Remember, we ate that mobster there? But I remember you hadn't any fun in Sicily. Tibet? Kyoto? Uppsala? I remembered you liked the university at Uppsala." Smen would not speak, though, still staring at that air-conditioning knob. It was on low, for it was a pleasant day, not too hot, not too cold. "Answer me, Smen."

"I don't know," he whispered, just to get him off his back. 

"I'm disappointed, Smen. But anyhow, we have a few days here, until we leave for City of the Dead, to have you bound to me again. And then, my lovely brother, the world will be our oyster."

Smen froze at the word "bound". Not again. 4000 years ago, he had been, with the help of the royal sorceress, bound to his brother. He could be summoned on a whim and would suffer great pain if he didn't succumb to it. "B-but you already did that." Smen's voice was panicked and he began to fidget and struggle to sit up. A hand at his chin, and the tightening arms at his legs stopped that shortly. "Magic wears off, dear boy, apparently, over a long time."

"Please, brother. The bands have barely healed over the last 500 years." With the spell, came tattoos around his neck and wrists, called bands. They were not comfortable, and they reminded him of his… predicament. Let's just say, Smen was not a fan. 

"Hmm, where do we go then, Smen?"

"Scotland."

"In this weather? Surely you jest."

"You asked."

"Anything for my Smen."

"Let me go, then."

"Anything but that, for my Smen." He gripped his brother's hair painfully, as if to warn him, and lay a gentle kiss on his forehead, as the car stopped. With Wosret opening the door, revealing the mansion that Menkaura was staying at, Menkaura got out with a curled Smen in his arms. 

"You were never going to do it," Smen said, in a muffled whisper. 

"No, my love." Smen had realized that they were never going to the City of the Dead in the first place. That it was a ploy to get Smen to… participate.

"You are a cruel man, brother."

"Ah yes, but a man, I am not." Grinning in mad bliss, Menkaura carried his bride over the threshold.


	6. Gold and Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The heal will come soon. Just gotta flush out the plot first. Please enjoy, and as always, I look forward to hearing your opinions.

The whole manor was marble. All of it. The light was dim and mostly candlelight. Menkaura didn't want anything as unromantic as electricity. Ever since he brought his brother two days past, he kept his distance, watching, as what he ordered to be made arrived. Smen was quiet. He hadn't spoken a word since they entered the mansion. He remained mostly in the bathhouse-sized marble bathroom, where he occasionally bathed. But the most apparent, and most disturbing, thing about Smen was his stance. Ever since he had put him down, Smen back was arched. So arched that his face completely covered by a curtain of long black hair that reached and pooled at the floor. That was when Menkaura had an idea.

He came into the bathhouse, with Wosret behind him. Wosret was carrying a large velvet box. "I brought you something, dear boy." He let Smen ignoring him go. He won't be ignoring for long.

"You are so beautiful, my sweet brother. That face of yours is almost heart wrenchingly beautiful. So beautiful, I want to weep." His brother spoke of his face fondly. He had tried to ruin it once, thinking it will decipate his brother's attentions. But his brother healed his face and told him he'd love him if he were a scarred leper. "But then again, like always, you make things difficult. I can't even look without you ruining it." As he opened the box, the smell made Smen look up.

In the box, there lay a chain, linking two cuffs, that looked too big for his wrists and the chain too short for them to be leg manacles. They were the finest of gold. Interwoven into the chains were also golden strands, that were much lighter than the chain itself. The chain's scent was familiar, and when Smen recognised the scent, he looked at his brother in sorrowful horror. The chain smelled like… Athena. No. He didn't. 

"You didn't. Not Athena."

"Oh dear boy, its only hair. It'll grow back."

"You can't just go around shearing off people's hair and taking it, no matter what state they're in."

Taking exception to what his brother said, in calm and warning anger, Menkaura said, "I think you'll find that I can. There is nothing that I cannot do. And besides, it's the only thing that'll hold you."

The bands were for his upper arms. Linking the cuffs in his upper arms forced his posture back and made it impossible for him to slouch or arc his back, making his face visible at all times. The only thing that can hold a vampyr is part of another vampyr and so only vampyr hair and sometimes even skin can bind a vampyr. Vampyr hair ropes were rare, but not uncommon. The hair can also be woven or smithed into chains, which his brother had just done. 

"Please, brother. I beg you to reconsider." His voice was strained, both because of the physical position he was in, and also being in this state in front of those he outranked. 

"Reconsider what? Wanting to look at you?"

Angry tears blurred Smen's eyes. "Menkaura please. This is humiliating."

Wistfully, Menkaura said, "Yes I know, is it not? Now behave, or I'll have ones made that'll keep you on your knees."

"Behave?", his voice was incredulous. "I haven't done anything."

"Precisely." With that, Menkaura left his brother to his new… predicament.


	7. Start of Something... Old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe a bit long, so bear with me. And sorry for the cliffhanger, lol. Please comment and tell me what you guys think. Enjoy! Or not....

There was a loud crack in the room. It was made even louder by the fact that the room was entirely made of marble. The Turkish-bath like room was large and smelt of lavender petals, with the burning sensation of eucalyptus. The mixture would tear human eyes. The room also reeked of death and spent souls. Another crack sounded. 

 

After a feast of about 30 people, Menkaura sat back with Smen sprawled across his chest. He had Smen positioned between his legs, as he unconsciously enveloped his brother in his long legs, ready to spring into action at any movement. Although it was metal, the golden chain that linked his brother's arms was incredibly warm, almost hot even. It was the hair in the chain and the cuffs. It was still animated. Alive wouldn't be a good word for anything related to Vampyr. 

 

Their bare upper bodies still had blood splattered on them. While Vampyr do not actually consume blood, but the essence and soul of a human, an electric and glimmering blue heavy liquid, it was the blood loss that killed the human. It was law to kill a human drained of soul and essence, for those who aren't suffer greatly indeed. While Vampyr were monsters, they weren't… well, monsters. 

 

Smearing the blood absentmindedly on his brother's chest, which his steely arm encircled, he looked towards where the crack had come from. Looking down, he saw that Smen's fingernails had buried themselves into the hard marble floor, the marble even cracking under his palms. He smiled. There was much strength in his delicate brother. In fact, he himself barely fed tonight. Twenty souls, his brother consumed. 

 

Smen stared catatonically at the 30 dead bodies scattered around the room. He hadn't realised where his hands were, or that Menkaura had started stroking his hair. Although Menkaura had cut his hair with the birth of this new millennium, he like that his brother had kept his long. 

 

Smen's breath hitched as Menkaura's hand covered his eyes and tilted his head back. "Stop looking at them, love. We are better than them. They are nothing to us. There is no guilt here, you know that."

 

Smen's eyes moved under the hand. "I know that. It's just… been a while."

 

"How long?"

 

Smen hesitated, and the hand tightened slightly. "How long, Smenkhkare?"

 

"I… haven't fed since Carmen."

 

"That was more than a hundred years ago!" Menkaura tried to ignore his anger, calm it with a deep breath. "No matter, now." He lay a long kiss on his brother's neck. "Now you will feed as often as I do."

 

"I don's like to feed that often."

 

"Like? That is how you live."

 

"What if I…" He didn't finish the sentence, because the hand at his eyes, clamped over his mouth.

 

"Don't you say it. Don't you dare say it."

 

They stayed like that for a heavy moment. "When you were born, mother and father were tired. They were tired of boys. They had had 14 boys after I was born, and every time they hoped for a girl. For a girl to be my wife. But they were all boys. For fear of feuds, they killed those boys. Buried them living. All but one. I was so lonely. I had never had a brother or a sister-wife. I couldn't see you die. When I saw you, I was floored. You had a smile on your face that wasn't like the others. You never cried, not even when you were hungry. I begged to keep you alive, for my sake. I could see they were fond of you as well. How could they not be? You were born to be loved, adulated, wanted. So they kept you. As you grew older, you grew sweeter, more beautiful. I wanted more than anything. I _loved_ you more than anything. I didn't want a dynasty, nor a wife, just you. You trusted me so."

 

Suddenly, Menkaure flipped Smen over and pinned him to the floor, so they could both see that they both had tear in their eyes. "When father noticed my affections, he ordered me away from you. Locked me up. Locked you up. But nothing, not even great Pharaoh himself, can keep you from me."

 

Smen began to whimper as Menkaure's hand glided up his porcelain thighs. "No one. And certainly not a weakling like you." With gratuitous savagery, Menkaure squeezed and wrenched at his brother's right buttock, satisfied at the muffled yelp. "I didn't go through all that, all that wanting and love and pangs of pure agony, so my property can scorn me." He wrenched it again, this time with a slap, as Smen's tears began to flow. "You _dare_ refuse me?" 

 

Smen realised that his brother was soul-drunk. He hadn't just had 10, it was apparent that his brother had just had hundreds at least. He couldn't see sense, and that was dangerous. 

 

"Don't scream. Please, I beg you, don't scream." Menkaura's finger entered his brother, who tried his best to comply. But Smen did not succeed.

 


	8. Joyous Reunion.. Or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back?! Yes, tis I. Here's the new chapter. Hope you enjoy it! And please leave comments and feedback. Also, sorry if it's dragging, I want a lot of emphasis on the characters and plot. Enjoy!

Menkaura was already inside him, moving. He didn't know why, after 4000 years of this, he still felt the same. Betrayed. Betrayed by big brother, who is supposed to love him, cherish him, pamper him, protect him. He felt betrayed by his body and its biological arousal, an arousal Menkaura had orchestrated to reassure himself that his brother was willing. To convince himself that his Smen wants this. But Smen didn't want this, he never had, and that, Menkaura knew all too well. He just no longer cared. He cared once. It ate him up, the guilt. The guilt that he made his brother warm a bed that will cold as ice for him. But time, as we have said before, dear reader, had made him cruel, frigid… _cold_. 

 

Smen no longer called it rape, however. It was way past that. It was rape when he was but 16. It was rape when he was 160, 1600 even. But at 4000 years old, it was but a.. _situation_. It was the norm for him. Imagine. Imagine rape being the one thing that is consistent in your life. Your anchor, your sanctuary. Rape, oh no, I'm sorry. _Situation_. 

 

Big brother began to speed up. He gasped and whispered sweet nothings in little brother's ear, tearfully, longingly, possessively. "I love you, brother. Why will you not love me back? Why do you refuse me, reject me so?" When Smen remained silent, Menkaura grew angry, annoyed. He started thrusting into his brother to the hilt, angrily, painfully. Smen whimpered with every thrust.

 

"And you know what else? I hate you too. I hate that you don't want me. I hate you for being the only thing on this earth that I want. I hate what you do to me, how you scorn me." The thrusts were at their most savage now, so strong that Smen's head began tapping the marble floor. Thrust. Tap. Thrust. Tap. 

 

"Why do you stay silent?!" he shouted at his brother. "I ought to cut out your tongue, since you don't like to use it so much," he whispered. 

 

When he finished, Menkaura picked up his brother to take him to the coffin they were sharing. There was silence, save for Smen's sniffles, Menkaura footsteps, and the sound of droplets of electric blue cum seeping out of Smen, hitting the floor once in a while. 

 

"Menkaura?" Smen whispered. Steaming, Menkaura did not answer, as he lowered his brother into the large, beautiful, ornate coffin. Then Smen touched his hand ever so slightly and whispered, "Big brother?"

 

Mesmerized by his brother's gleaming eyes, he answered, "Yes, Smen?"

 

"Please unchain me. It is uncomfortable to sleep like this. It will bruise my back."

 

"Then sleep on your front, my sweet."

 

"But…"

 

Menkaura interrupted, with authority, coldly. "Sleep… on… your… front." And without a word, he did, in big brother's arms. 

 


	9. Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyya guys, so sorry for the late posting. Real life and that, you know. Anyhow, enjoy! And as always, comments and opinions welcome!

“Highness?”

 

A voice was gentle, gentler than anything he’s heard in a while. Smen was tired and his eyelids were barricaded shut by the satin pillow pressed against his face as he slept on his stomach. 

 

A hand touched him, and he startled. “Highness, will you wake please? I have brought you someone to have for breakfast. You must feed.” Slowly opening his eyes, Smen realised why the voice was so familiar. It was Wosret. Wosret, his kind, scarred face, his concerned eyes, his soft voice. 

 

“Wosret, leave me be. I have had a long night.”

 

“Highness, please. The sedative will wear off soon, and I know how you don’t like it when they seem living. Please, highness, your lord brother will be cross with me if you don’t eat.”

 

After a couple minutes of struggling, Smen finally managed to sit up. “You wouldn’t by any chance have a way of getting me out of these chains would you?” His voice was strained and tired. 

 

Wosret’s head shook pitifully from one side to another. “I’m sorry, highness. Orders.”

 

Smen gave a humourless smile. “I didn’t think so.” He paused, then said, “Where is my brother?”

 

“Your lord brother has stepped out for the morning, on important business.”

 

“Ominous, whenever my brother steps out when I am… ‘with’ him. It usually ends up being unpleasant for me. Help me up, Wosret.”

 

As they walked to where the human breakfast was kept, Smen’s stance, his walk, were that of a king’s. Even in his circumstances, he carried him self with the grace of a Gazelle, gliding, never walking. 

 

After he finished the human’s soul and essence, he asked Wosret to snap its neck. He still couldn’t bring himself to. Electric blue dripping from the side of his mouth, Smen smiled at Wosret. “The orange jumpsuit. He is a convict, no?”

 

“Yes, highness. I chose a very bad man for you. I know you don’t like to drain innocents.”

 

“Do I want to know what he’s done?”

 

Wosret gave an affectionate chuckle. “It is not worthy of… your attention.” Wosret looked at his prince fondly. _Nothing is worthy of you, nothing and no one deserves you,_ he thought. 

 

“Wosret? I, uh, have something to take care of at my company. I’ve disappeared suddenly and I need to at least tie up the loose ends.”

 

Nakjtnebtepnefer was the one who answered, just having entered. “I apologise, highness. We are under orders to keep you here until your lord brother returns. You are not to leave this manor, until then.”

 

Smen tried to contain his anger. “Has he, now?” Frustrated, he sat down, on the floor. “Why?” he asked, exasperated. “Why does he do this?”

 

“So you’ll learn, adapt.” His brother’s voice boomed in the marble room. He came in, hands in his pockets, wearing an expensive grey suit.

 

“Learn what? Adapt to what?” Smen asks, incredulous. 

 

“Me. I am all you need to worry about from now on. I am the extent of your existence. Me, Wosret, and Nakjtnebtepnefer. Which is why I went to your company this morning. Or former company, shall I say.”

 

“What?!” Smen, stood up, albeit with difficulty. 

 

“Yes, your company… is no more. Your assets too. It’s not like you need them anyhow.”

 

“Menkaura, you have gone too far!”

 

Menkaura’s eyebrows raised. “Is that right? Wosret, Nakjtnebtepnefer, leave me with my brother.”

 

After they bowed out of the room, Nakjtnebtepnefer looked at Wosret not unkindly. They weren’t the best of friends, Nakjtnebtepnefer was too arrogant for that. But they were partners. Always had been, so Nakjtnebtepnefer felt the need to say it. 

 

“Wosret. If you want to keep them, keep your eyes down. You falling victim to Our Lord’s jealousy will you do you no good. Him either.”

 

“Worry about something else, Nakjtnebtepnefer. I know my place.”

 

Before he walked away, Nakjtnebtepnefer said, “You always did love him didn’t you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gasp* What?! Smen and Wosret? Can it be?   
> Haha, tell me what you guyd


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DepravedWitch, this is for you *wink*

“Back to their old ways eh?” Nakjtnebtepnefer smiled sadly, his wonderful lips stretching over his glossy while teeth. Smen and Menkaura have been fighting for hours, Smen giving his brother a good fight, even though everyone, including Smen, knew he stood no chance. Every yelp, scream, and cry that Wosret heard from that room hurt him physically. They were all Smen’s. Angry, Menkaura left the house, destroying everything in his way. 

“This isn’t fair,” he told Nakjtnebtepnefer. 

Nakjtnebtepnefer chided, “Wosret, you need to stop saying that. Enough of that. You are a warrior, who is to serve Menkaura in everything. The prince’s fate is to be owned, and there is nothing you can do about it. There is nothing he can do about it. It is unfortunate, but you’ll achieve nothing if you’re dead.”

Wosret knew his partner was right. “He hates us.”

Nakjtnebtepnefer sat next to him. “Of course he does. We are accomplices in his misery. Do you blame him? Lord’s obsession is harmful and frightening, and I am not the object of it. I can only imagine how Prince feels.”

Wosret’s voice was wistful. “He takes it with such grace. Such patience. I feel I will never see such a thing. Should we check on him?”

Nakjtnebtepnefer hesitated. “I fear…”

“He is not here. We need to care for him, that is our order.”

When they entered the room, Smen was leaning on a wall, tending to his injuries. “Highness..”

“Remain where you are, Wosret. I have had enough….contact today.” Wosret knew that his king was…insatiable. 

“Would you like someone to eat, Highness?”

Smen sighed. “Yes, bring me someone.” 

The moment he and Nakjtnebtepnefer left, a figure appeared at the door. Menkaura stood there with a flower in his hand. He smelled it and caressed it with his hand. He began to walk in slowly and sat down as Smen continued to ignore him. Effortlessly, he lifted Smen into his lap and hugged him to himself, Smen’s back pressing against his chest. He put the flower to Smen’s nose. “For you.”

“Thank you…”

Menkaura put his nose to his brother’s hair. “You will never leave me. Is that understood? If you so much as think about it, you will never see the outside again. You will never see another soul. I will put you in the most desolate hole in the ground where you will await my company, my pleasure. You will be so alone, you’ll beg to see me in no time. I am too merciful to put you in a sarcophagus. I love you too much. At least if you were buried in there I’d know where you are always. You’d go mad. I’d let you out after a harrowing thousand years just to make love to you, and you’d be putty in my hands, begging me not to put you back in. Do you want that?” He shook his brother. “Answer me, Smen.”

“No,” he whispered. 

“Will you mind me?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. Now, lie down.” When he did, Menkaura lay atop him. 

“Will you ever run from me?”

A single tear fell from Smen’s eyes, which Menkaura kissed away. “Never,” he whispered.


End file.
